


The Ark in the Storm

by IrishIris



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Minor Character Death, Pack, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishIris/pseuds/IrishIris
Summary: With the wizarding world destroyed beyond repair, Hermione would do anything to fix it. In her case, 'anything' will include time-travel, monthly moon symptoms, and breaking all the rules with a certain group of troublemakers from the past.More complete (but still in-progress) version on FFN, posting weekly here on AO3.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione hated dungeons.

She knew it was useless to pace, and yet she couldn't keep still. They'd thrown her down into the bowels of Hogwarts three days ago, and she'd been going crazy with worry every hour that passed. She'd been mentally preparing for a round of cruciatus, at least, but now she wondered if their intent hadn't been to drive her insane with mere fear instead.

A cackle came from somewhere off to her right and echoed off the stone walls, causing a ruckus to sound from a half dozen other cells around the huge dungeon. Hermione shuddered. She estimated it could hold forty prisoners, based on the size of her own cell and the echoes from her neighbors. Three of the four walls of her cell were made of stone, so she couldn't see more than the cells immediately opposite hers, but they were terrifying enough.

The cell she could only see a sliver of on the left-hand side held a handful of goblins, and not the somewhat civilized type she'd met at Gringott's. No, these four or five took turns stacking on top of one another to try and squeeze out the six-inch gap between iron bars and stonework. When they inevitably fell, they fought with each other until someone started to bleed. The next one directly across from her was empty except for a pair of great, unblinking eyes which followed Hermione in her pacing. The last one on the far right held a creature she hadn't yet seen the entirety of, just a human-like arm that perpetually hung outside the cell door and was made of rotting flesh and bone.

Having tired herself out, Hermione crouched down and pulled her thin jumper tight around her shoulders. She'd used wandless magic on her first night to start a fire, but the vicious commotion that had caused among the dark-loving neighbors ensured she wouldn't try it again, no matter how cold she got. In any case, the last rays of sunlight were fading. Their jailer would be bringing some food down shortly. Eating something would help her body warm up.

Time passed, though, and still there was no sign of the jailer. They'd come to expect three regular meals a day, and the other prisoners were getting restless. Finally, after listening to what must have been a series of transformations due to a full moon, a set of footsteps was coming down the stairs.

"All right, you lot," a young boy's voice sounded from the middle of the staircase, "I've got some portkeys for you all. But you'll just have to wait your turns. You're going up one at a time."

The prisoners weighed in on this, loudly, and Hermione heard the boy whimper.

"The Dark Lord," the boy yelped, trying to cut through the howls and shouts, "has finally decided what's to be done with you all. You ain't got a choice."

Hermione pressed her face as close to the iron bars as possible and she could just barely make out the right side of the boy. He wasn't more than a first year, she guessed, grimacing. Those who survived the Battle of Hogwarts lived with knowledge of the worst sort of cruelty, without exception. Hermione had come to pity the living and envy the dead. The world without Harry Potter was not a bright one.

The boy started passing out the random objects she'd come to associate with portkeys. The first cell received a toothbrush. After waiting a minute or so, he handed out a chewed-up top hat. Then the death-hand got a musty yellow blanket. And finally it was her turn.

She held out her hand, awaiting her object and preparing herself with a mental list of every defensive spell she knew wandlessly, but the boy passed over her.

"Sorry, Miss. He says you go last."

Hermione looked at the boy as he passed. If he really was a first year, there's no way she could have known him. She was horcrux hunting while he was dodging unforgivables from the Carrow siblings. He'd known nothing but fear from school, she thought, and her heart went out to him. As a rule, she did not like to think about the things she didn't do and the people she didn't save, but sometimes her failures were shoved right in her face.

The Battle for Hogwarts did not go as planned. She wasn't even sure how Harry or Ron had died, but the house elf who saved her assured Hermione both had passed. As soon as they realized which side had won, the house elves had claimed and hidden as many wounded students as they could in the room of requirement, and tried as best they could to nurse them back to health. Hermione was the last student to wake from a month-long magical coma before they'd all been discovered. The physically able had been thrown into the dungeon. Cho had been in the bed next to her with a nasty gash on the head... she shuddered to think what had happened to those still injured.

The dungeon was nearly silent now, except for the boy's footsteps coming back up the hall towards her. His pale, little face came to her cell, and she was reminded of Neville in his first year. The boy held out a rusty tin can with his chubby hand, not looking at her. She felt her heart speed up, knowing this portkey could open up over the Atlantic ocean or above some island volcano. She hesitated.

"Take it!" he shouted, closing his eyes tighter and shaking the can at her.

No, Voldemort wouldn't have kept her locked away only to toss her over a cliff. He's been waiting to make an example of her. She gritted her teeth and grabbed the can. Instantly, she felt the yanking sensation from the middle of her gut transport her out of the dungeon.

"And there she is," an amplified voice boomed around her, "tonight's Mudblood of honor. I know you'll all give a warm, Hogwarts welcome to Hermione Granger!"

A deafening round of applause went up as Hermione blinked rapidly, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the floodlights pouring down from above. Once the spots and fuzziness dissipated, she recognized where the portkey had landed her- the middle of the quidditch pitch. She tried to twist her head towards the announcer's box to see who was in the crowd, but found she was caught in a full body-bind. So instead, she surveyed what was in her line of sight.

It didn't look good. She was dead-center field, facing one set of goals, with a minefield of dangerous creatures spread out. She spotted the goblins spaced a few meters apart, along with what was definitely a vampire, a giant, and a half-dozen other creatures she only had a partial view of. Interspersed between them were various students, some she'd known, but most she didn't recognize. She couldn't do more than swallow down the bile rising in her throat before the announcer's voice came on again.

"For those of you on the pitch unfamiliar with our midnight game, this is Wizarding Gladiatorial Melee!" the voice said, pausing for everyone to cheer before he continued, "The rules are simple. On my signal, survive for as long as you can! The last creature standing will be given his or her freedom....for a time. If you become a crowd favorite, which usually happens by being particularly bloodthirsty, you can call for a five minute timeout at any point."

"And, I think that's all. I mean, it is rather simple. Are you all ready?" the crowd roared once more, and Hermione took one long, slow breath. If she just kept her wits about her, she'd do fine.  
A whistle blew and Hermione spun around. This half of the pitch wasn't any less crowded. A pair of centaurs and Ernie Macmillan were backing into a corner under the shadow of a gigantic troll, a flock of thestrals were taking to the skies, and an acromantula was chasing after a young girl.

"Hey!" Hermione shouted, throwing her best, wandless protego out between the giant spider and the girl, "You leave her alone!"

The spider bounced off her shield and rolled backwards into the troll, but the girl was still running. Hermione started to follow her, knowing she wouldn't last long among some of these creatures, but a hair-raising howl stopped her cold.

She turned around. A huge, hairy creature was stalking toward her on all fours. She knew it wasn't a werewolf, since it didn't look exactly like Professor Lupin's form, but it was similar. Regardless, she aimed a confundus followed by a blasting curse towards it and then took off, ducking and weaving between the various squabbles. She scanned the chaos, looking for an ally. The only creature on the pitch currently not fighting was the giant, who was lying on his side. It looked like he had already died. Hermione felt bad for the poor thing, but she raced even faster to get behind his body for some much-needed coverage. The crowd above once again roared its approval and she heard a high-pitched voice wail. She didn't turn around.

When she finally reached the far side of the giant, she was panting. If she'd been thrown into this mess while she was still on the run with Harry and Ron, she would have been fine physically. But she'd been on a bed, out cold for the last month, and the last three days specifically had seen very little food and sleep. She tried to ward the little alcove made by the curve of the giant's fallen body, but her hands were shaking too badly, and the complex spells really required a wand.

A growl came from the far off to the right side of the pitch, and Hermione shrieked. It was that were-thing. A cat, maybe? It had pointed ears and whiskers, plus a long, sleek tail. It was also hurt, Hermione noticed. Both its back legs looked broken and kinked at horrible angles. Still, she didn't think she could out-run a werecat, even if it was injured. She looked up and saw the coast was clear on top of the giant, so she started to climb.His flesh was still warm, but cracked and dry like concrete, and it chafed as she hoisted herself up.

She'd nearly made it to the top when a searing pain tore into her calf muscle, making her scream in pain. She looked down, the werecat dangling a few inches off the ground with its jaws wrapped around her leg. She summoned every last bit of energy she had and blasted the creature right between the eyes. The force of the blast worked, making the werecat let go of her leg, but the ricochet also sent Hermione flying up and over the top of the giant.

She crumpled on the ground on the other side, and she could hear the crowd on its feet, cheering. She gritted her teeth, sucking in air as best she could against the pain. It was coiling through her bloodstream now. The full moon shone high in the sky tonight, and even though Hermione knew the bite must be infected, she couldn't focus on that now. The werecat was more important. She didn't think it would be coming back from that last blast, though, so maybe she would have a moment to recover.

Such a gift isn't found in a melee, however. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a limping, stumbling figure coming towards her with an outstretched arm of rotting flesh and bone. She snapped up, ready to defend herself despite the flaring agony in her calf. The pain in her leg became secondary, though, when she saw who the creature was.

Her bun had come loose. It was the first time Hermione had ever seen it down. Her robes were torn to ribbons, and the withering stare she was known to give to Malfoy was replaced by an empty, dead gaze. Hermione wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and unsee what was in front of her, but she needed to get away first. She didn't want to think about what would happen if the inferius McGonagall reached her.

Knowing she was weak and easy prey, she chose a tripping jinx for the inferius. If she could just keep it away long enough to climb back on top of the giant, she might have a chance. A quick glance at the rest of the melee told her more than half of the participants were lying dead on the ground, and almost all of those remaining were all-out brawling in a mass of arms and legs to the excitement crowd. So far, no one seemed to notice Hermione and her former professor.

The tripping jinx worked, sending the inferius tumbling towards the ground, but it also made something sparkle from underneath the scraps of fabric. A small golden chain was tucked underneath the collar of what once were robes.

In a moment of clarity, she cast a full body-bind on the inferius, though it was pathetic and merely made the creature move in extra slow-motion. Even though the spell was terribly executed, Hermione collapsed in fatigue. Any more attempts at magic could send her into magical exhaustion, she realized. All the more reason to see what was dangling at the end of that necklace.  
Hermione dragged herself over to the body of Professor McGonagall and reached out two fingers, trying not to touch any of the decaying skin as she moved aside the flapping fabric. It was her old time turner, she saw with undisguised relief. Hermione knew it had belonged to her former professor, but she hadn't known how closely McGonagall kept it. Before the jaw on the inferius could unhinge or bite Hermione in slow motion, she pulled the chain over its head and hobbled away.

 _Sorry, Professor_ , Hermione thought, pulling the necklace over her own head and preparing to count the turns. Four or five hours should give her enough time to get away before any spectators started showing up, right? But she looked at the rotting body of the woman she'd considered another mother, and she knew she couldn't leave her in this state. With the last of her magical reserves, she whispered incendio towards the body and began spinning the time-turner as she watched the inferius catch fire.

She was completing the fifth rotation and sagging to the ground as exhaustion set in when a strangled growl came from above her. She looked up to see the werecat, cross-eyed and broken, launching itself from the top of the giant's body towards her. She cried out and twisted away, losing her grip on the old time-turner in the process. It began to spin wildly out of control with their momentum, but neither Hermione, the time-turner, nor the werecat ever hit the ground.

The familiar dance of time started around her, characters weaving in and out at the speed of light. It all blurred, the sun rising and setting fast enough to make her sick, and she closed her eyes tightly against the onslaught of images. When the world stopped spinning minutes later, Hermione landed and promptly vomited, right on top of someone's highly polished quidditch boots. 


	2. Chapter 2

"And you don't know anything else?"

"No, I'm sorry. She came in without even a wand."

Low voices carried on a conversation nearby. Hermione guessed they were talking about her, but she didn't want to wake up yet. She was in a bed- a real, proper bed, not a stone floor or a camping cot or a pile of blankets- and she snuggled deeper into the soft comforter, intending to stay as long as she could. She did a quick body scan, but she couldn't sense any really serious injuries. When the voices seemed to disappear she stretched out her tense muscles, then yelped as her calf seized in pain.

"Ah, you're awake," Madam Pomfrey said, coming right around the curtain blind. "I'm Madam Pomfrey, dear, and you've got quite the nasty bite on your leg. I've patched you up as best I can, but there's something not quite right about it. Do you remember how you got it?"

Hermione said nothing. Madam Pomfrey didn't know who she was, and that set off all kinds of warning bells in her head. Had she been obliviated to forget traitorous students? Or maybe she was being imperiused? The last thing she wanted was to tip off Voldemort that she'd escaped his death battle with a time-turner.

Madam Pomfrey looked at her through slitted eyes. "If you were out in the Forbidden Forest, we'll certainly be having words, but I'd rather know what you were up to so I can treat it."

"Unless, of course, you weren't on school grounds at all." Professor McGonagall said, coming around the corner herself.

"Professor," she breathed. Forgetting about her leg, she twisted out of the sheets and tried to get up. "I'm so glad I found you. Something terrible is about to happen, and-"

"Slow down, child," she said coming closer to prevent Hermione from getting up. "I'll certainly hear your predictions of doom and despair, but first I'd rather like to know who you are, and how you came to apparate onto the middle of the quidditch pitch."

"You too?" Hermione said, looking between Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, "It's me, Hermione. I know I haven't been around this year, but-"

"Hermione," Professor McGonagall said, tasting the word. "You seem to know me, but I know no one by that name. Is it possible you hit your head when you landed?"

Hermione paled. For the first time, she really looked at the two women. Professor McGonagall had hardly any grey hairs, and her face was curiously unlined. Madam Pomfrey, too, looked much younger than Hermione ever remembered seeing her.

"What year is it?"

"You see, Minerva, I told her she bumped her head. Probably someone trying to get an early seat for the first quidditch game of the year."

But Professor McGonagall was looking at Hermione with fresh eyes, taking in every detail in a way that made her squirm like a half-transfigured toad.

"Poppy, would you leave us alone for a minute? If I'm not mistaken, Miss Hermione might have some possibly...sensitive information."

Madam Pomfrey huffed, but backed out. "I'll be back in ten minutes to give you another blood replenishing potion, okay?"

"Yes, thank you Poppy," Professor McGonagall said as she pulled up a nearby chair and sat down. "It's 1975, dear. When was it where you came from?"

Hermione gasped. That was...twenty-three years ago. She hadn't been born yet. Her parents hadn't even gotten married yet. She'd read about what happened when people used time-turners to go back more than a few days. Going back this far could cause at least fifteen different paradoxes, all of which could mean the end of the world. She covered her face with her hands and mumbled through her fingers.

"Professor, I swear I didn't mean to come back so far. Honestly, if there had been any other way I would have done that. But I saw your time-turner, and well, you've seen my leg, and-"

"I'm sorry, did you say, my time-turner?"

Hermione fiddled with her blood-stained collar until she found the gold chain and pulled it out. "I didn't think you'd mind. You were..." she almost said you were dead, but thought better of it. "You were unable to give me permission, so I did what I had to."

"Don't say anything," Professor McGonagall said, all the blood suddenly drained from her face as if she'd guessed Hermione's unspoken words. She looked at Hermione like she'd just breathed fire or acid, but still she came closer to look at the tiny, golden piece in her hand. Minutes later, she let out a shaky breath. "That is indeed my time-turner, Hermione, but I ask that you don't reveal anything more about the future. I'm no longer sure I want to know what year you came from."

"You believe me?" she said, surprised at the lack of security questions.

"That time-turner could never be removed from my person unless I thought the taker altogether trustworthy, and you can't be from the present as I'm wearing the same one right now," she said, pulling it out and holding the two next to each other. They were identical, three concentric circles with swirling, intricate runes written all along the edges, and a delicate hourglass in the middle with grains of iridescent sand.

"You can keep the twin you acquired," she said, putting her own back safely hidden among her robes. "But I would caution you about using it further."

Hermione shook her head. "I need to use it, just once more. Please, I must insist you send me back. I'm a danger to the timelines here at Hogwarts. I've traveled... well, more than a decade. That's all I'll say, to give you a sense of the magnitude. I'm a walking paradox like this."

"Paradoxes are nonsense," Professor McGonagall said, waving her hand airily, "And Hogwarts is the safest place for you with all those death eaters running around. They would just love to find a witch with full knowledge of the future. No, you will stay right here."

"No offense, professor, but I don't think that's possible. I don't have any family, a wand, any money at all-"

"Details can be dealt with later. Don't worry, we'll talk it all through. For now, focus on healing, and tell Madam Pomfrey as much as you can about that bite on your leg."

"Yes, Hermione, I really do need to know about that," the matron said, returning with the promised potion.

Hermione paled, having forgot all about the wound. "Honestly, I'm not sure what it was that attacked me. But it was the full moon..."

"Say no more," Madam Pomfrey said, her mouth forming a hard line for a moment, "I assumed as much, but wanted you to confirm it. We can deal with that quite easily, however. There's another student currently attending who you can spend the moons with."

Her words made Hermione spew out the potion she'd been in the middle of taking. How could she forget that crucial bit of information? Twenty-three years ago meant not only that she hadn't been born, but it also put Professor Lupin, Sirius, even Snape in school.

"Professor? Is she doing any better?" a boisterous voice said, coming around the privacy curtain.

Hermione could only stare as Madam Pomfrey tried to shoo the boy away. "Mister Black, I will not have you interrupting my patient's resting again. As you can see, she's no longer unconscious, but that will have to settle your curiosity until I've given her a clean bill of health."

"Aw, Madam P, how will she know her knight in shining armor if she doesn't meet me?" Sirius craned his neck around Madam Pomfrey and winked at Hermione. "Next time, you might try not hurling on a man's quidditch boots, but I'd save you any day."

Hermione's face burned as Sirius scampered away, leaving Professor McGonagall rolling her eyes. "And now that you've been flattered by Mister Black, you're properly initiated into Hogwarts. I'll leave you to get some rest, Miss Hermione...?"

"Granger, ma'am."

"Miss Granger. I'll return in a few hours and we can go over some logistics with regard to your position. Until then." She nodded by way of goodbye, leaving Hermione alone and still blushing.

In the end, Professor McGonagall and Hermione decided to tell people that she'd been home schooled. There had been a recent death eater attack on a muggle shopping mall where a dozen bodies were unable to be identified, and they decided to claim both her parents were there. It explained her coming to school mid-way through the year and also why she was far ahead of other students academically. Once Hermione had been declared recovered enough by Madam Pomfrey two days later, both Hermione and her favorite professor took a quick trip to Diagon Alley to pick up her supplies, robes, and a new wand, all paid for from the needy student scholarship fund.

The streets weren't nearly as crowded as they usually were when she went school supply shopping, and they had most of the stores to themselves on the chilly late-October morning. Hermione was grateful for this, seeing how she reacted while walking through the halls during a passing period at Hogwarts. A few children running toward her had her ducking and covering into the nearest empty classroom, rigid with fear. After this, they changed Hermione's story to say she'd been at the mall with her parents, hoping it would explain her dislike of crowds and loud noises.

"I'm here for a replacement want, sir," Hermione told Ollivander when he popped out from his large warehouse storeroom.

"Of course, of course, much too old to be getting your first. What kind of wand did you own previously? You didn't come here to get it."

Hermione was once again amazed at the wand maker's memory. "No, sir. But it was vinewood, 10 3⁄4 with dragon heartstring."

"Funny, I just finished making one of those last week, the first I've ever made. I'll bring it out and let you see how it's better than whomever you bought it from last time."

She was very surprised, however, when the wand felt absolutely lifeless in her hands, refusing to even spark when she pointed it.

"Nothing to fret about, dear," Ollivander said kindly, taking the wand back, "sometimes wands get jealous of your previous wands and refuse to play along, or sometimes your personality shifts. Any big changes in your life?"

She nodded, looking at the floor. 

"Ah, not the good kind of life change then. Hang on, I think I've got something that might help." Something about the wand maker's third offering, after the fir and the holly, felt familiar as she swished it around. When bird-shaped sparks sprout from the tip, she knew this wand was all her own.

"Ah, the English Oak," Ollivander said smiling, "a wand for springtimes and new beginnings. And the dragon heartstring core is familiar enough to you, though I'm surprised at such a difference in size from your last. I'm sure you'll adjust to the extra three inches quickly." Hermione agreed and thanked the old man, leaving the seven galleons on his counter as he'd already gone back into his cramped storeroom.

Hermione and Professor McGonagall discussed many things on the trip back. They covered her six years already spent at Hogwarts, how she was already a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and especially her questions about time travel, all before reaching the gates of Hogwarts.

"Can you explain something to me, Professor? In the hospital ward, you said that paradoxes were nonsense. What did you mean?"

Professor McGonagall thought for a moment before answering. "What do you know about the story of Madam Eloise Mintumble?"

"That's the cautionary tale of time-travel. She was a witch who went back in time almost five hundred years, and when she they pulled her back she aged all five hundred of those and died. Plus, after she returned, a number of people died from 'un-births' and time behaved very strangely, either speeding up or slowing down for a few days until it recalibrated."

"Exactly. And what lesson is that supposed to teach to students of time magic?"

"Don't go back more than a few hours and don't be seen, chiefly."

"Correct again. Notice that none of the paradoxes were ever realized until she went back to her original timeline. Now Hermione, did my future self ever reveal that I used to work for the Department of Mysteries?"

Hermione's shocked face must have given her away, and Professor McGonagall smiled. "Let me guess, you thought I worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? Yes, that's a common cover story, but you can't have anyone knowing where you really work. It was very exciting for me as a young woman fresh out of Hogwarts, being down there with all these secrets no one could know about.

"The two years I worked there were full of theoretical knowledge, reading from the most restricted books in England and learning from some of the most brilliant time-theorists in the past. The most relevant for you will be a Lord Abrams from late eighteenth century Scotland. The history books, if they mention him at all, call him a nutter, but that's for you to decide. You can borrow my copy of his book and read up on your own, if you like.

"Lord Abrams claimed time, well, at least Magical time, was a sentient thing, capable of thinking and acting on its own. He hypothesized that, as a sentient creature, it prized its existence over everything else, and would protect that existence- and by extension the entire magical world- if it were threatened.

"The core of his theory was that time could run into dead-ends occasionally, paths down which magical time and the magical world would come to an end, with 100% certainty. Lord Abrams said that in such instances, time itself would revert back to the last point in its past where it had the best chance of surviving, a tipping point if you will, and start itself over from there with one single difference in the timeline. That difference could be a geological disaster or a biological mutation, but most often it involved a witch or wizard, as they have the most agency and therefore the largest ability to cause change.

"I don't know the world you came from, Hermione, but from what you've told me, there's evidence that points to it being one of these 'dead ends.' That's only for you to decide, of course."

Hermione thought about this as they climbed the hill that led to Hogwart's gates. "I suppose it doesn't really matter what I think about this particular theory, though. If the only way to return is to have someone pull me back, I'm stuck here. There's no one there who knows I've gone, so I can't age twenty some-odd years or create paradoxes or cause un-births or anything."

"That's correct."

"Then why bring it up?"

Professor McGonagall smiled as they crossed over onto Hogwarts property. "Ask me again after you've read the book. You can swing by my office after we sit for dinner and get you settled into your room. Which reminds me, you have a few options for that, assuming you'd like to remain in Gryffindor?" Hermione nodded. "Very well. Among the sevenths years there, we have no female students. A real shame, as the Ravenclaws of that year are bursting with terrific, quidditch-playing witches. You could either live among the sixth-year ladies or have your own room."

Hermione's stomach rumbled. "Can we put off the move until dinner?"

"Of course, if that's what you want. Meet me at the entrance to the Great Hall after you've finished and we'll head up."

The Hall was the same as always, the large ceiling twinkling as it showed a sky full of stars above the ravenous students. Hermione moved towards the Gryffindor table, her robes already matching the red and gold of her housemates.

"Look, boys! It's my damsel in distress!" called the voice of Sirius Black from the seat closest to the head table, making the rest of the students who hadn't already noticed her turn and stare. Hermione's face flushed as she tried not to run back out the doors and eat dinner with the house elves.

"Come, my fair witch, sit with us!" he called again, pointing to an empty seat across from him. She scanned the rest of the tables, but even without any seventh year girls, Gryffindor was pretty packed. Begrudgingly, she sucked up her courage, ignored everyone, and walked the length of the Great Hall until she stood at the end of the table.

"You don't have to sit there if you don't want to," a redhead in Gryffindor said a few seats down, "Black just assumes it's everyone's greatest pleasure in life to be in his company."

"I am a delight and a proper good time," he said back, smiling as he took a swig of his pumpkin juice, "You, Lily Evans, just don't know how to have fun."

Hermione did a double take. Everyone was always telling Harry how he had his mother's eyes, and now she could see for herself. Unlike Harry though, she had red hair a few shades darker than the Weasley's and it flowed smoothly down her back. She gave Lily a smile.

"You can sit next to Alice and I, here," Lily suggested, moving her plate of shepherd's pie over a little as the rest of the girls re-shuffled to make room further down the table.

Hermione was grateful and sat down immediately, her face still burning. "Thanks. I'm Hermione."

"Hi, Hermione," said Alice, sticking out her hand and shaking it gently, "your hair is really beautiful."

Hermione laughed and nervously twirled one of the corkscrews around a finger. Alice must just have been saying so to be nice, since she hadn't done so much as run a detangling spell through her hair since she'd arrived. "Thanks. It certainly was a mess when I was younger."

"Well you've tamed it now," she said, smiling. "Can I introduce you to people? It must be hard being new. I'm Alice. This is Dorcas next to me," she said, indicating a cheery girl next to her who had a faraway look in her eyes and was twirling a fork through her hair, "and next to that toerag Black is Marlene-"

"Hey watch it, Alice," the girl Marlene said through a mouthful of food. "This toerag and I are going to be the ones crushing Hufflepuff to the ground in tomorrow's scrimmage."

Alice rolled her eyes. "The last of the girls in fifth year is Mary, but she's already back in the room. You can meet her later. And Sirius' other boys here are Peter and James," she said, pointing them out in turn.

Peter was wolfing down his pie and nodded with a big, full smile in greeting, but James reached out his hand to shake.

Hermione's mouth hung open a little as she shook hands with the spitting image of her best friend. After the slew of names and introductions she was sure she'd never remember, seeing James' face was like finding an anchor in the middle of a storm. Without thinking, she lifted her hand to brush the hair out of James' forehead to look for the familiar scar.

"Hey! I'm the one who saved you," Sirius said, though he sounded far away, "not bloody Potter. He couldn't be a knight in shining armor if someone stuck Lily up in a tower and stuck a dragon below."

"I could too," James said, but there wasn't much energy in his retort. He was spending it all trying not to move too much as the new girl slowly touched his face.

"Oh Merlin, I'm sorry," Hermione said, shaking herself out of whatever dream she'd fallen into. "It's just... you look so much like my... brother." It was easier that way, and Harry had always said she was like a sister to him. She didn't feel bad about the white lie.

Their end of the Great Hall fell silent until Lily spoke up. "Professor McGonagall told us yesterday about your family. We're really sorry."

Hermione nodded, twisting her hands in her lap. "It's ok. Well, no, it's not, but it will be. That's why I came. Fresh start."

Desperate to break the somber tension, Alice started peppering Hermione with innocuous questions ranging from her favorite book to best subject to her year in school.

"Well, I was homeschooled, so I'll have to test for every subject before they'll place me. I expect to be in mostly N.E.W.T level classes, though, based on what my previous, uh, tutors told me. But Professor McGonagall says there aren't any seventh year girls in Gryffindor? She said I could have the space to myself, but I don't know."

"Ooo!" Alice squealed, making all the other girls laugh, "you could bunk with us!"

"Allie, don't you think it's already a little crowded in our room?" Marlene said, "No offense, Hermione."

"Oh, the room will accommodate, it always does," Lily said. "If Hermione came, Marlene, there'd be another muggleborn in the room. We'd be split half and half." Lily waggled her eyes to drive home some unknown point, and Marlene ate it up.

"YES! Ok, changed my mind, you're coming with us."

"What about the sixth years?" Hermione asked, overwhelmed at the thought of sharing a room with so many girls. Parvati and Lavender had been hard enough to room with. But six girls?

"They're over there," the fork-twirling girl whose name Hermione had already forgotten said, pointing with the same fork towards the Ravenclaw table. "See those two blonde girls with the Gryffindor ties? That's Nicholata Fawley and Rosie Abbott."

Hermione saw them alright. They were practically draped across the laps of two Ravenclaw boys, simpering, sighing and giggling in very high-pitched tones.

"Right. Fifth year dorm it is," Hermione said and a cheer went through the little cluster of girls. She tried to smile along, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

"Well, thank you for welcoming me," she said standing up, though she'd hardly touched her food. "I promised Professor McGonagall I'd meet her after dinner to go over a few things. I guess I'll see you upstairs?"

They all agreed and waved her off. Sirius, who'd been planning his quidditch strategy with Marlene, recognized her leaving and stood on his bench.

"My love! I shall wait a thousand years for your return!" he said, sniggering with Peter and James. Hermione, who'd had quite enough of his antics by this point, continued walking away while aiming a bat-boogey hex at him backward, one even Ginny would have been proud of. She didn't turn around to watch his reaction, but she heard the sticky, flapping noise and the loud whoops and cheers from those who'd seen.

After that, the walk to Gryffindor tower with Professor McGonagall was a quiet one. All she could think about was Harry and James. A gnawing sensation started in her stomach, and she wondered if she'd ever be able to look at the later without seeing the former.

The last time she saw Harry alive, he was covered with dirt, blood, sweat, and grime. She'd offered to go with him to the forest; she knew what he had to do. But he wanted her to take care of the snake. In the end, she'd hardly done anything. Neville was the one who finished Nagini off, which should have solved the problem. But something happened to Harry and the piles of dead bodies began to rise. No one got Bellatrix (though Hermione knocked herself out trying), no one got Dolohov, and obviously no one got Voldemort. Her eyes started to prick as she passed the hallway where she'd found Molly Weasley, her tears threatening to spill over. Instead, she rubbed the heels of her palms into both eyes, forcing the tears back.

As they rounded the corner, McGonagall asked if she'd decided on her living situation. In an instant, Hermione changed her mind. 

"I think I'd like to take the seventh year's room, if that's alright. It'll be... quieter."

The Professor stopped and eyed Hermione carefully, taking note of her red, rubbed eyes. "Do you remember what Ollivander said about springtime and new beginnings? It would be good for you to create a new sort of family for yourself here among the students, starting with some roommates. Isolation is never the answer to a traumatic incident, or a traumatic life, as it sounds like you've had. You would do well to live with others."

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione sighed, knowing she was right. "In that case, the fifth year girls have already invited me to live with them. Would that be alright?"

"It's a bit unorthodox, but I think we can make an exception. Those are a good bunch of girls, very tight knit and... light. I think you'll do well with them."

The Fat Lady opened to the password Godric's Pants, which Professor McGonagall grimaced at, and Hermione walked into her second favorite place in the world.

"Oh hello, Professor," a boy around her age said, getting up off the couch where he'd been reading. "Is this the new student?" He smiled at her, twisting his fingers around the fraying edges of his robe.

"It is," Mcgonagall said, "Hermione, I'd like you to meet Mister Lupin. This is the student I mentioned you'd be, er, spending some time with. Remember?"

Hermione hadn't heard a word of what Professor McGonagall said. The boy in front of her was nothing like the man who taught her defense against the dark arts and fought with her in the Battle of Hogwarts. This was a boy with a full, thick head of beautiful blonde hair, not a line or wrinkle on his face. And he was staring at her with undisguised wonder.

"Woah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank you for finding my little story. As it says in the summary, this will be a weekly reposting from the story of the same name on ffn. There, it already has over 100K and enough chapters to last me until November without writing another word. 
> 
> So buckle up, my friends! And do let me know what you think. Comments feed the nargles. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Remus closed his mouth, shook his head slightly, then stuck out his hand. "Remus Lupin. It's nice to meet you, Hermione."

"Remus is also a prefect in Gryffindor, so I leave it to him to answer any questions you may have," Professor McGonagall said. "Also, here's the book we spoke of. We can catch up later in the week to go over it, if you like. If you're interested, I'm sure Mister Lupin can show you the location of my office."

"Of course I can, ma'am," he said, though his eyes never left Hermione's.

"Good. And Hermione? Professor Dumbledore apologizes for not meeting with you in person before the start of your year, but he is off on business. He asks that I pass along his welcome, and promises to meet with you the next chance he gets."

A shiver crawled up Hermione's spine. She had no wish to see that man, whose plans and scheming she blamed for most of the deaths in her time, but she didn't argue with her head of house.

"Alright then," Professor McGonagall smiled, "good night to you both."

When the two were alone in the common room together, he returned to his seat on the couch, patting the spot next to him. "So, you're the werewolf?"

She took the seat, her knees bumping into his as she sat. "Well, to be honest I don't know what I am. It was dark, and I didn't quite see what got me. It didn't look like a werewolf, though."

Remus' lip curled. "No blood dripping from its muzzle, I take it? Those are just fairy stories, Hermione. Well, most of the time"

"No, I've met a werewolf on the full moon before. I know what they look like," she said, not able to look Remus in the eye when she said this, thinking back to the horror of watching him transform. Is that what it would be like for her?

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, saying her name slowly and reaching out to squeeze her hand. "It's not pleasant, meeting a werewolf. I'm surprised you survived that first encounter, honestly."

"Yeah, me too," she said, though she didn't explain any more. "But whatever attacked me yesterday didn't quite look the same."

"Well, we'll find out soon enough. I'm really am excited to spend the night with you. I mean-" he stopped, his hands waving out in front of him. "Not like that. Sorry. I've never really been around another werewolf, or a were-anything before."

"I can't say I'm excited to do all this, but I am grateful that you'll be there my first moon."

"That's right!" he grinned, "You're just a pup! Oh don't worry, you'll get all these neat side effects after your first one. Your sense of smell gets overwhelmed and you want to just stick cotton balls up your nostrils, and you get cranky and snap at your friends, and you won't believe-"

Hermione sagged into the couch, feeling tired just thinking about it. Remus seemed to notice, and he tried to tone it down accordingly. "Anyways. We've got almost a month before the next moon. We can talk about it later, if you want. Anytime, really. Are you going to take the seventh years' room? It's empty since Amelia's parents pulled her out. I can't help you up the stairs since boys aren't allowed, but I can give you directions."

She smiled at his rambling. Remus was adorable as a teenager. "No, the fifth years invited me to bunk with them."

"You dodged a bullet, then. The sixth years are nutters. Why don't you head up? You've had a busy couple days. Fifth year dorm is the fifth door up through that door over there." He seemed to notice his mouth running away from him again and he cleared his throat. "Or so I'm told."

Hermione nodded, smiling despite her fatigue. "Thank you, Remus."

"You're welcome. Goodnight." There was that look again. He was staring at her like he couldn't believe she was real.

It took her a second to move away, and even while she was climbing the stairs she could feel him staring at her from the couch. It was a good feeling, having someone staring at her for a reason other than wanting to kill her.

The door on the fifth year's room was covered with five handmade nameplates. The one bearing Alice's name was written like scrawling ivy, and Lily's was charmed to crackle and pop like flames. The letters in Marlene's name whizzed around her plate until they rearranged themselves in order, and the girl Mary, who she hadn't seen at dinner, had an all-black plate with her name in an elegant silver script. The last of the nameplates wasn't written in any language Hermione knew, and she guessed that one belonged to Dorcas. Hermione pushed her way inside, wondering if they'd offer her a spot on the door.

"Is that you Dorcas? I need help with my- oh."

Mary, she determined the name by process of elimination, was drop-dead gorgeous. She had long, inky black hair which spilled over her shoulders, and a deep red nightgown which made her look much older than a fifth year. Hermione refused to feel intimidated, but this girl wore a look of disapproval which seemed permanently etched on her features.

"I wondered why a new space popped up," she said, tipping her head towards the untouched bed and mostly empty chest on the other side of the room. "It scared me half to death when I was in here reading and the whole room started shaking like an earthquake."

"Sorry about that," Hermione said, extending her hand, "I'm Hermione Granger. Your roommates invited me here instead of living alone in the seventh year's room. I hope that's ok."

"Even if it wasn't, I'd probably be outvoted," she said.

"Oh," Hermione said, wiping her hand over an imaginary wrinkle, "Well it's a really beautiful room. You guys are lucky."

Mary smiled. "You wouldn't, by chance, know anything about the Department of Mysteries, would you?" she asked with a penetrating gaze.

Hermione panicked. "No! What do you- I mean- I have no idea what-"

"Woah, calm down there, Granger," she said, holding up the book she'd been reading. The title read  _ The World of the Unspeakables.  _ "Just researching for a paper. I'd hoped you were Dorcas because she's great at History of Magic. But I won't ask for  _ your  _ help, clearly."

Already, seven different explanations for her strange response popped into Hermione's head. But before she could offer any of them, the door banged open.

"Mary!" Dorcas shouted, then tossed a wrapped pork pie high in the air, which Mary caught with one hand. "I see you've settled," Marlene said, flopping onto her bed, "and met our resident grumpy pants."

"At least I wear pants," Mary said, indicating Marlene's now bare legs and bright yellow boxer shorts. "Have some decency!"

"Nope," Marlene said, dodging the pillows thrown at her from the other girls, "Hermione, you might as well know- I hate pants."

Hermione smiled slightly, grateful that they weren't going to tiptoe around the 'new girl.' It was almost like bunking with Ginny again. Ginny, who never had a thought for personal modesty among other girls, taught Hermione way more about female anatomy than she ever wanted to know. Poor Ginny. Hermione took a seat on her new bed, blocking out the memories.

"Alright now, Hermione," Lily said, lying on her stomach and propping her head up with a pillow, "what was all that between you and Sirius Black?"

"Sirius?" Mary echoed, eyes flicking back to Hermione with interest.

"Oh that," Hermione said, sitting up a little, "well my portkey was miscast, so I landed on the quidditch pitch instead of the headmaster's office. I hate portkeys, though, and when I landed... uh, I threw up on Sirius' shoes. He was the one who brought me to the hospital wing, I guess."

Marlene rolled her eyes. "So now he thinks he owns you, right? He thinks he saved you, so he called dibs and now he's being a prat?"

"Sounds like someone could use a reminder of who's in charge around here," Lily said, grinning.

"Hermione already hexed him herself in the hall, which was great by the way," Alice said, "but doesn't that make her even already?"

"Maybe," Lily said, "but I need an excuse to try this new hair-removal powder on Potter, and I can't think of a better reason to try it."

"Hermione, what do you think?" Marlene asked, "Want to prank Sirius with us to get him off your back?"

"I don't think so," she said, wanting nothing more than to sleep. "You can of course. I'm sure hair-removal powder would be really funny. I'm just tired."

All the girls understood. Professor McGonagall had met the four girls coming back from the Great Hall when they were in the common room and she reminded them that their new roommate had been through a lot, and would need some space and time to adjust.

"Of course," Dorcas said, going around and closing the window curtains, "we all need to head to the library anyways to work on some papers. It'll be nice and quiet up here for you."

"Thanks," Hermione said, smiling at them as they grabbed their books and left. When she was finally alone, she closed the curtains around her bed and immediately put up all the familiar wards. Her breath caught a little, realizing she hadn't set up these wards since she used them in the tent for Harry, Ron, and herself. Red hair and messy black used to be the last thing she saw at night. Her boys. A tear leaked out and she wiped it away a little too harshly. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

" _ Psst, Hermione!" _

_ She peered around the big, white column she was hiding behind. Harry was hiding with Ron behind a separate one, but Harry was motioning for her to join them. She looked around to make sure the coast was clear, but neither the Malfoys or the Snatchers were anywhere in sight. She darted out from behind one column to the other, but her footsteps on the polished, marble floor made loud echoes throughout the house. _

" _ Run!" Ron yelled, pointing behind her as Fenir Greyback came around the corner. The three of them took off, heading up the stairs, through the hallways, down the stairs, through passages. They were always losing ground on the half-transformed werewolf. He snarled and roared behind them, causing Ron to trip up and fall behind. _

" _ RON NO!" Hermione shouted, but Harry pulled her arm forward, forcing her to keep running away from Ron's screams. _

_ After a few minutes, Harry and Hermione lost him and stopped to catch their breath in the center foyer, panting hard. Hermione's chest felt like it was going to cave in, and she was struggling to stay upright. _

_ Just then, a terrific howl came from the balcony above, and a now fully-transformed were-thing leapt down two stories, jaws wide, straight at Hermione. _

"NO! No, no no no," Hermione yelled, kicking her covers off and launching herself out of bed. She landed awkwardly on her shoulder, which fully woke her up.

Four poster beds. A stove in the middle. The permeating scent of parchment and terrible perfume. Oh thank Merlin, she was at Hogwarts. She was safe. She covered her mouth, going completely silent in the hopes that she hadn't woken anyone. Her heart was pounding as she listened in the dark, waiting for a telltale yawn or movement, but there was nothing.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she slipped on a pair of socks and tiptoed down to the common room with Professor McGonagall's book. Tomorrow, she'd ask Madam Pomfrey for some Dreamless Sleep, but for now, she'd just have to stay awake. The large clock in the common room read only half past one. Hermione yawned, then curled up by the dying fire and turned to the first page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for being so supportive! I'm really feeling the love. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Comments feed the nargles. :)


	4. Chapter 4

The next day Hermione woke up tucked in a blanket, her book neatly bookmarked and placed on the ground beside her next to a pepper-up potion. A note was tied to the neck of the little vial which read 'good luck on your tests today! -the girls.' The common room was empty, and the large clock showed it was five minutes of nine. 

Five minutes before her N.E.W.T. exams began.

Hermione swore and flung herself off the couch. She raced down the corridors, nearly bowling over some first years in her attempt to meet Professor McGonagall on time. She managed to snatch some bacon of Sirius' plate before meeting the stern-looking witch at the head table of the Great Hall.

"Cutting it close, Ms. Granger," she said, frowning. "Follow me."

Hermione spent the entire day testing. Whenever a professor had a free period, they'd stop by the empty classroom to drill her in every branch of magic. Each time it was the same; after the first few questions, they all realized what a depth of knowledge she had, and the questions got impossibly difficult. By the end of the day, Hermione was struggling to keep her face off her dinner plate.

"How do you think you did?" Dorcas asked, her head tilted slightly to the side in a way that reminded her of Luna.

"Well enough," Hermione finally answered, rubbing her shoulder from where Marlene flicked her to get her attention, "I hadn't done some subjects in a long time, though, and I'm not sure I'll even be in N.E.W.T. level classes for them. Especially potions. Merlin, that was difficult. Is Professor Slughorn always so exact?"

"Oh yes," Dorcas said, "he is ever so nice, though. He likes to offer potions as prizes to students who do well."

Hermione remembered that from her own timeline, still miffed that Harry had stolen the Liquid Luck from her with Professor Snape's textbook. She wondered if Snape's fifth year potions textbook was as interesting as his sixth year's. She turned towards the Slytherin table, realizing she didn't get a look at her old professor during yesterday's meal.

She found Snape quickly enough, sitting at the far edge of the table. He was alone save for a younger boy who seemed to be talking his ear off. He hadn't changed much, with his nose still hooked and his hair still greasy, but it was surprising to see the features on such a young face. The war must have aged him a great deal.

"That's Severus Snape," Dorcas said, following her line of sight. "Are you interested?" 

Hermione's face contorted in disgust. "Merlin, no. He just...looks lonely."

"I suppose he is," Dorcas agreed. "He and Lily are friends, sort of."

"Who am I friends with?" asked Lily, coming over and dropping her book bag. 

"Severus Snape. Sort of," Dorcas repeated.

Lily's face looked lost for a moment as she sought out the Slytherin across the hall. "We were childhood friends," she agreed softly. "He was the one who recognized I was a witch and explained what that meant. He doesn't talk to me much anymore, though."

Hermione had no idea Snape knew Lily so well. She could just imagine Harry's reaction; he'd probably go mental, pretending to vomit or maybe vomiting for real. Ron would start calling him "Mister Harry Snape" and grab a black mess of Hermione's yarn to stick on his head. Then he'd have to duck before Harry hit him in the nose. She snorted at the mental image, even as her eyes misted over.

"Now what's so funny?" said Harry- no,  _ James  _ Potter as he sat next to her and across from Lily. Hermione sucked in a breath and the boy's outline blurred underneath her tears.

"Hey, hey!" he said, looking bewildered, "I just heard you laugh! But now you're crying!"

"Just because  _ you  _ have the emotional range of a teaspoon," she muttered.

"I'll have you know I can feel five whole different emotions," he said, puffing out his chest. "And I want to know what you were laughing at. I bet I'm way funnier than whatever it was."

"It was my brother, hence the laughing and crying bit," she said, wiping her eyes. "He would have some very interesting things to say if he ever met that boy Snape over there. We used to... know someone like him, and the two of them butted heads constantly."

"Well your brother had right good taste," James said, oblivious to Lily's hard stare. "Did this lot tell you how Snivilus jinxed my broom in the last Slytherin/Gryffindor game last year?"

"No," Lily interjected, "but we could have just as easily told her about how you sabotaged Severus' transfiguration final in third year by transfiguring  _ him  _ into a toad!"

"You know I only did that because  _ he _ -"

"It doesn't matter! There’s more than enough blame on both sides of your stupid war. Who cares who did what?" Lily said, then got up and marched out of the hall, red hair bouncing and sparking behind her.

Not knowing what to say to comfort James, who looked like he'd been slapped, she turned her attention back on her peas. The rest of the meal was quiet as the rest of the fifth years (except for Mary, again) came and went. This included a still rambling Remus, who told her all about his terrible potion skills and his 'okay' abilities in defense, but Hermione couldn't find the motivation to get up when he left for the library. Finally, when the last of the plates disappeared and the house elves started popping in to clean, she decided it was time to go. Snape was still sitting, now totally alone, at the edge of the table with a book. She walked towards him, wanting to feel out whether he was already lost to the death eaters, but something else caught her eye.

Two unknown Slytherin boys were whispering and pointing at Snape from farther down the long table. They looked like seventh years with their five o'clock shadows and the huge robes they were pulling wands out of. Not thinking, Hermione threw up a protego between Snape and the boys, her mind automatically jumping tracks and putting her in battle mode. A second later, the  _ madidus _ curse rebounded back on the boys, absolutely soaking them.

"You git!" they shouted, pointing at Snape and shaking off their dripping robes. "You learn wandless, non-verbal magic or something?"

They pulled up into a dueling stance, but Hermione rushed forward, taking a similar position. She conjured a flock of birds with a whispered _avis_ and sent them to attack before the boys could blink.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Snape yelled, knocking her over and calling off the attacking birds with a spell she'd never heard of.

The boys were fuming and covered in peck-marks. "Glad your  _ girlfriend's  _ here, Severus." They said it like she said ‘dung beetle,’ and Hermione imagined they already knew she was muggleborn, somehow.

Snape's cheeks were a dark red in an instant. He gritted his teeth and turned on Hermione who was still on the ground. "Get. Out."

Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She'd almost made it to the great doors before Snape yelled after her, "I'll get you back!"

His voice seemed to echo all the way down the hall, and Hermione was still trying to shake how similar it sounded to her old professor when she finally stepped through the Fat Lady's portrait.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione got her scores from Professor McGonagall.

"You got... eleven N.E.W.T.s?" Remus asked, the first one of the ten fifth years at the table to break the shocked silence.

"Most of them were only an A," she said, "and I guessed on a lot of them."

"Hermione, you don't just  _ guess  _ your way to eleven N.E.W.T.s," Lily said, looking at her like she'd sprouted wings or turned into a unicorn.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Miss Evans is correct. You earned those N.E.W.T.s honorably. I was especially impressed with your transfiguration exam. Mr. Black will tell you I am not easily impressed."

"Minne won't even  _ smile  _ at me during class!" he complained, spewing bits of the muffin he'd stuffed in his mouth as he spoke.

"Let me see that," Remus said, snatching her evaluation results. His eyes scanned the page before coming to the final score. His mouth opened wide, then closed. He repeated this a few times, looking between Hermione and the page, eventually pointing at it with a confused "huh?" directed towards Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, Mister Lupin, Hermione did indeed earn  _ above  _ an O on her Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. Her dueling is unlike any I've seen from a student in many years."

"Yes, well, let me keep my grades to myself, thank you," Hermione said, snatching the paper out of Remus' hands. Anyone could be listening to their conversation, and she wasn't interested in her dueling abilities being widely known.

"Are you kidding?" Marlene said, "I'd be standing on the table crowing like a rooster if I got scores like that. Hell, I'd be flying  _ off  _ the table and onto a professional quidditch pitch if I already had my N.E.W.T.s."

Hermione shook her head. She'd decided even before getting her scores that she deserved a seventh year at Hogwarts. Plus, what Minerva had said back in the hospital wing was correct: Hogwarts was the safest place for her at the moment. "I'd like to take the N.E.W.T. level classes for any subject I didn't earn an O in, if you'll allow it, Professor."

Professor McGonagall didn't look surprised. She pulled a roll of parchment from the sleeve of her robe and handed it to her with a smile. "Hurry up with your breakfast, then. You've got Herbology with Miss Brown first period."

Alice grinned at Hermione. "I'll help you with your seedlings first thing. You'll be a few weeks behind, but Professor Sprout has some grow-vine you can use to catch up. Oh this is going to be so exciting! I don't know anyone in class otherwise!"

Hermione could see Neville shining through his mother then, and for the rest of breakfast. She continued to babble on about how she was allowed to take her herbology O.W.L in third year instead of fifth, how her mandrakes were doing, and how she tamed her wild begonias. She could see Neville's kindness in her too, later when they were at their workbenches elbow deep in magically enhanced soil.

"Lily and I heard you last night, stumbling around and muttering to yourself," she whispered, "and you didn't sound so good. Are you ok?"

"Were you guys the ones who put the pepper-up potion on my book yesterday?" When Alice nodded, Hermione sighed. "I'm... alright. I have nightmares, is all. I forgot to get some Dreamless Sleep from Madam Pomfrey, but I'll be sure to get some before tonight. I don't want you all waking up because of me."

"Oh no, we wake up anyways," she said, smoothing the flowerbed and Hermione's conscience, "but Lily wanted me to pass on that if you want, you can talk to her. You can talk to me too, of course, but Lily's got some experience in mind-healing."

"Like, counseling?"

"I think that's what the muggles call it, yeah," Alice said, "and that's how Lily got interested in it anyways. But mind-healing involves more than just talking. You'd have to ask Lily for specifics, but I know she's helped out others. Remus, for example."

Hermione felt herself flush a little just hearing his name, and of course Alice was perceptive enough to notice. She waggled her eyes.

"You know Defense is his best subject? I thought he was going to start drooling when he saw your scores." 

Hermione dug her hand into the soil and scooped out a handful. "Does he have a girlfriend, by any chance?"

"Ooo, Hermione!" she giggled, flicking some dirt at her. "You will have to be careful, though. There is a Hufflepuff girl who's been in and out of the picture, but I'm not sure where they are now. Her name's Victoria something. But I've never seen him look at a girl the way he looked at you during breakfast, though. Practically wanted to make a meal out of you."

Blushing furiously, Hermione had to agree with her. Once he stopped gaping at her like a fish, the look in his eyes was something between envy and longing. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh just thinking about that look, and she wondered if his mouth did anything besides just open and shut.

"Oi, quit thinking about your man and help me with this," Alice said. Even though she made a joke of it, Hermione knew how seriously she took herbology. She took a second to clear her mind before focusing back on class. She could find Remus in the library afterwards, she was sure.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys don't actually think I'll give you a nice, pleasant, walk-in-the-park relationship though, do you? Enjoy the fluff while it lasts. You've got two or three chapters til chaos. :)
> 
> Leave your thoughts, questions, or predictions in the little box below. Comments feed the nargles!


	5. Chapter 5

Despite searching through every stack of the library, Hermione couldn't find Remus. She liked to think she knew the library better than anyone, but now she wondered if there were secret passages, nooks, and corners that lived and died as Marauder secrets.

She just _knew_ he was here though, so she decided to wait him out. Her new classes assigned plenty of homework, after all. She picked a spot far back near the restricted section, but with a clear view of the library's doors. It wasn't long before she got sucked into her History of Magic textbook like a first year all over again. She'd missed being in the large, dim space where the only sound was shuffling paper, the only smell was something ancient and dusty. She closed her eyes and soaked everything in like she was recharging a battery.

" _Muffilato_."

Hermione quickly opened her eyes. She knew that voice, and the spell even better. She whipped out her wand and pointed it at the stack in front of her, or rather, the person she knew must be standing on the other side of said stack. She grinned at her luck; she'd been wanting to try this counter-charm for a while.

" _Auditoro_."

"-and then he'll be ready?"

"Precisely," a second, also male voice answered, "though you have to bring him a sort of...pledge gift."

"Of what nature?"

"It can be anything, really. You don't have to bring a body, of course. Just proof that something is your own work. Something that shows off your loyalty. I'm sure you catch my meaning."

"So, does it need to be a- HEY!"

Hermione backpedaled from the stack where she'd pressed an ear against a gap, a gap that was now filled on the other side with the angry face of a Slytherin she didn't know. Immediately, she started stuffing her bag with every parchment and book she'd spread out on the desk, but the body-bind came faster. Try as she might, it was like being frozen solid- cold, uncomfortable, and desperately hard to breath through.

"Seems we've caught ourselves a little bird, Severus. A nosey bird." The boy who'd cast the bind came around the corner, glaring. He looked like the type who played with his food before eating, but Snape was making a beeline to Hermione before he could.

"You," he snarled, "How could you hear us?"

The other boy loosened her mouth and the rest of her face enough to answer. "I couldn't hear anything," she started, "I thought it was strange to see your mouths moving but no words coming out. I was trying to see if it was just a low whisper or something but-"

"Liar," the Slytherin said carelessly, twirling his wand in the hand not perched on his hip.

"Think really hard," Snape said, crossing his arms.

"Auditoro," Hermione whispered.

Snape seethed. "And you knew the counter charm to a charm I'd just invented how, exactly?"

She had no excuse he would accept, so she kept her mouth shut, staring back with all the intimidating force she could muster.

But Snape and his head of thick, slimy hair was an immovable object, and he did not crack. After a few, tense moments of staring into his uncomfortably black eyes, the older Slytherin released Hermione from the body bind. She gulped down lungfuls of air in relief.

"As much fun as this is," the other boy drawled, checking his cuticles, "I have a few other meetings to attend to this evening. Nothing she heard could have made any sense to someone like _her_ , anyways. Think on what I said, Severus."

Snape immediately broke the staring contest and rushed after him, trying to convince his friend to stay, but the boy with the short, cropped hair moved on. Once he'd left, Snape, taking a deep breath to regain his composure, turned on Hermione. She was finished packing her bag when she felt his wand at the base of her throat.

"What do you want from me, exactly?"

Think, Hermione, think! How do you lie to a snake?

"I'm friends with Lily," she said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind which had nothing to do with the future.

"Oh, and she's sent you to fight her battles for her, hm?" Snape said, pushing a little harder with his wand. "Try again, charm thief."

"You know what? No," she said, pulling out her own wand and landing it on his jugular before he could react. "I have my reasons. I don't need to tell you what they are."

He narrowed his eyes. "But you're a... a filthy... mudblood, aren't you?" he said, finally spitting the word out. He looked proud, like he deserved a prize for saying it.

Hermione rolled her eyes and put her wand down to pull up her sleeve. Snape initially pressed his wand harder into her throat, but then went slack when he saw Bellatrix's parting gift, the scarred word still an angry red against her pale skin. A part of her enjoyed watching his mouth open in horror and seeing the fear in his eyes. The other part, though, was just envious of his innocence.

"Pick your friends carefully," she hissed, then left him wide-eyed and alone in the stacks.

* * *

The walk towards Gryffindor Tower didn't calm her down as much as she hoped, so she turned down a random corridor to make it longer. Again and again, she let the castle lead her around in loops and laps, through doors and into dead ends, and around and around until she was thoroughly worn out. It was almost dark before she felt like herself again, and by then she could smell the sweet scent of treacle tart coming from the Great Hall. Still, she needed to grab her astronomy things before class that evening.

"Hi, Mary," she said, entering the dorm and seeing her roommate lounging on her bed again with books spread around her in a semi-circle. Mary made a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement but didn't look up. She looked sad, Hermione though. So, feeling a little bit sorry for the girl she hardly ever saw leave the dorm room, Hermione reached out.

"Do you want me to bring you up some dinner? I don't see you going down very often, and-"

"I'm fine," Mary said, cutting her off sharply without looking. "Dorcas takes care of me."

Hermione was momentarily torn between wanting to make a good impression on her new roommate and feeling worried about her eating habits, but in the end her concern won out. "Are you sure? I'm just heading down there now and it wouldn't be any trouble-"

But the bed curtains swished shut before she could finish. _How rude_ , Hermione though. _I was only trying to be helpful. See if I ever offer you anything again_.

Hermione grabbed her astronomy things in silence, and was about to leave when she heard giggling behind her. Stumbling through the doorway came Dorcas and a girl with platinum blonde hair, laughing their so hard they were crying. It was only when Dorcas tripped over an upturned broom cleaning kit that they broke apart.

Dorcas noticed Hermione when she sat up, rubbing her scuffed elbow. She grinned. "I didn't know you'd be up here! Hermione, I'd like you to meet my best friend, Pandora."

Pandora bounced up and dusted off her ankle-length sundress, then stuck out a long, pale arm. "Hello Hermione. Dorcas has said lovely things about you. How long have you been here?"

Hermione grasped her hand to shake it, but instead Pandora swung their arms back and forth together. They both smiled, and it was then Hermione recognized her. _Hello, Luna's Mom,_ she thought.

"Nice to meet you, Pandora. I just arrived at Hogwarts. Not yesterday, but the day before," Hermione answered.

"No, silly, not at Hogwarts. I meant 1975. Dorcas was right, your aura is full of time-mites. You might want to get that checked before they make a mess of your mind."

Hermione froze at the first sentence. Her first, traitorous thought was, _if you can't lie to a snake, you can't lie to a future Lovegood. Luna could always see right through you_.

_Shut up_ , she told that traitorous part.

"Well I've always been from 1975," she started slowly, deciding that if she kept near to the truth she might fare better, "though I have done a bit of... traveling in the past. Thanks for the tip about time-mites, by the way, I had no idea they could be a problem." At this point, Mary had stuck her head out from behind her bed curtains, her keen eyes flitting between Dorcas, Pandora, and Hermione, and looking very, very interested.

"Are you quite sure you haven't gotten lost, then?" Pandora asked with her brows knitted together, "That's quite a lot of time-mites for just a "little" traveling. Maybe you really jumped dimensions by mistake!" Ever the Ravenclaw, Pandora was about to go full-academic on her.

"Ah, no. Quite sure." Hermione said, edging towards the door. She knew if she got drawn into some long discussion, she'd probably give away everything. "Anyhow, I need to get down for dinner before astronomy. Thanks though!" And before anyone could respond, she dashed out.

"I was hoping you'd be down," Remus said, scooting over with a little half-smile when she appeared in the Great Hall, "I saved you a seat."

Hermione could hear the rest of her dorm mates making obnoxious kissy noises at her, but she sat down anyways. "Why do you boys always sit here, though? You're all the way up in the front."

"That would be my doing," Sirius said, taking a bow so low his nose nearly touched his plate of mashed potatoes, "Prongs and I got caught starting one too many food fights back in second year. They've had these two seats closest to the profs engraved especially for us ever since."

"And our mates are kind enough to sit here with us," James piped in, slapping Peter on the back.

"And _we_ sit here to keep tabs on what _they're_ doing," Marlene called from a few seats down.

"Speaking of which," Sirius said, elbowing Remus' plate out of the way so he was resting on table right in front of Hermione, "I know you are a girl and all, but if you were to join the league of Marauders, the sides would be even- five versus five."

"Your nose is awful close to mine, Black," Hermione said, "I wouldn't want anything unpleasant to happen to it."

He pulled away like there were already bat bogeys coming out of it, but he was smiling like a maniac. "Oh that's exactly why I want her on the team. C'mon, 'Mione. What are those lovely witches up to? We know they're planning something."

"First, I don't do nicknames. But... I _did_ hear them working on something the other night."

A chorus of gasps came from the girls' side. "Hermione, you wouldn't-" "We trusted you-" "You were asleep!" Hermione grinned evilly, ignoring them. "See? It's true."

James rubbed his hands together. "Finally! We've got a snitch! Always wanted one of those."

_Be careful what you wish for_ , she thought sardonically. She managed not to look at Peter, but kept going. "Alright. So the other night, they were talking about bees."

"Bees!?" all four boys exclaimed, leaning away from her.

"Oh yes. They were talking about putting you all into your own beekeeper suits, and getting each of you your own little hive, and setting up a honey stand."

Remus was looking skeptical at this point. "Why would the girls do that?"

"Well, that way you could mind your own beeswax!"

Remus started laughing a howling laugh. "Get it? Cuz beeswax?"

The rest of the table just looked at him.

"What? It was a good joke," he said, blushing violently.

"Wasn't that funny, mate," Peter said, tucking his head down to hide his grin.

"I happen to like puns! There's nothing wrong with that," Remus said, then flashed a smile at Hermione. "Hermione, feel free to make a pun at my expense any time."

He was looking at her from beneath those long lashes, his eyes flicking between her eyes and her lips. She saw him gulp, and there was something about watching his Adam's apple bob that made her mouth go dry. She licked her lips to moisten them again, and that's when she noticed that Remus' eyes had gone from green to golden.

"Hermione? Don't you have astronomy tonight? You're going to be late."

Both Remus and Hermione blinked, realizing at the same time that there were other people at the table, other people in the world. She apologized with a smile, and he reached over to quickly squeeze her hand.

"I'll see you later then?" he asked.

He'd touched her for less than a second, but the hairs on the back of her hand were standing up and her heart had skipped a beat. She didn't trust her tone of voice to not sound breathy, so she nodded instead and turned to go.

"Goodbye, my love!" Sirius called out after her. "Until we meet again!"

Hermione heard Remus growl after that, causing a slight blush to creep up her neck.

_Imagine what your third year self would say_ , a prudish part of her mind whispered as she joined the flow of seventh year astronomy students heading for the tower. _He was your professor!_

_Third year Hermione would be dancing a tango in excitement_ , she countered.

_He is a Marauder though,_ the voice continued, and Hermione grimaced when she realized the voice sounded an awful lot like Lavender Brown. _Who knows what his real intentions are? Maybe he's just looking for a quick-_

_Enough!_ Hermione said, locking down the treacherous voice. Remus was one of the most honorable men she knew. He would never toy with her just for a shag. They would have to spend every moon together, after all. Wouldn't that be difficult if they had a falling out?

She decided not to think about that now. Remus had given her no reason to distrust him, and was in fact being a perfect gentleman. So she cleared her mind of all distractions and poured her focus into her astronomy sketches. Right now, she was tracing the position of Venus, which was getting closer and closer to its eclipse by the moon. She smiled each time she glanced upwards, not being able to remember the last time she was relaxed enough to simply stare at the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Hermione. It WOULD be rather difficult to spend moons with Remus if you two had a falling out, wouldn't it? We certainly wouldn't want THAT to happen.... :) 
> 
> Anyone have any predictions? Fears? Hopes? Buckle up, because this ride is about to get bumpy...


	6. Chapter 6

Unfortunately, her peace didn't last long.

For weeks she walked down the halls and fought to forget the way the portraits looked when their canvases were shredded and lifeless, or how the stones looked when crumbled and crusted with blood. She could chug a vial of Dreamless Sleep and forget everything for a while, but the potion was no help in the daylight. When she heard the innocent, playful screams of the younger children racing down the halls, all she heard were the panicked sounds just before death. When a professor raised her voice to scold a student, she shuddered at the sound of intimidation before an  _ avada kedavra. _

And  _ forget  _ about going to a quidditch game.

Professor McGonagall must have seen the new girl who walked on eggshells most days, else Hermione would never have been invited to tea in her quarters. She sat in the Professor's private rooms, hidden behind a concealed door on the wall of her office. The small sitting area was sparsely furnished but had all the comforts of the Gryffindor common room. One small armchair and a matching loveseat, both well-loved and in a soft red fabric, sat on either side of a coffee table stacked high with bookmarked tomes, many of which seemed to be about Time Theory. The whole room was full of books, actually; two walls had floor-to ceiling bookshelves with a ladder just like in muggle libraries, and Hermione had to crane her neck to see the top shelf.

"You're welcome to borrow some if the student library proves insufficient to your tastes," Minerva said, bringing a tea tray in and setting it down. "Have a biscuit, Hermione."

Hermione tried to smile, but it didn't quite make it to her eyes. Minerva watched the young woman nibble at the edges of the cream-filled biscuit, her nails bitten down to the beds. Her hair was at least  _ sourgified _ , but it looked like it hadn't been truly washed in days, and there were large, dark bags under her eyes. Minerva had met veterans of war, of course, but never ones this young.

"How are you adjusting to this time, dear?" she began.

"Everyone is really nice. The girls have really been welcoming and even put up a name plaque for me on the door." Even though her words seemed pleased and happy, her tone was flat and lifeless, her eyes just staring at the carpet.

Minerva noticed. "I'm glad. It's good to have friends around. However, I had meant that question more generally. You've experienced quite a shock. Have you found any difficulties to such a change which you didn't expect?"

Hermione was quiet for a minute. When she answered, she was so quiet Minerva needed to lean far forward. "I hate knowing everything. I look at everyone and could tell them when, where, and how they died, and how their children died for some of them. I feel so helpless. Why am  _ I  _ the one who got thrown back from the dead end?"

"I imagine if you spoke with Professor Dumbledore-"

" _ Never, _ " Hermione hissed, before getting up and starting to pace.

If Minerva was surprised by Hermione's reaction, she didn't show it. She took a sip of her still steaming tea and smoothed out her black robes. "I of course don't know what Professor Dumbledore was like from your time, but I can imagine. Regardless of his failings, though, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone with as many connections in the wizarding world as that man."

"So I trade my helplessness for bloodstained hands? In my time, that man is responsible for the deaths of nearly everyone I hold dear, including yourself." Of course, Hermione didn't really know how Minerva McGonagall died and became an inferi, but she knew Dumbledore's failed plans were to blame if she traced it back far enough.

Minerva raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing. She sat, tapping a fingernail on the porcelain teacup in time with Hermione's pacing until the later sat back down and took another biscuit.

"I'm not saying anything against  _ this _ Professor Dumbledore," Hermione continued, "It's true that I don't know him. I just trust you more. Can't I just tell you what I know?"

"I can be your sounding board, of course. But even if Albus and I can match wit for wit, I'm the type of person who prefers to stay in my study and grade. I try and keep up to date with the outside world, but my focus is here with you students. I doubt I would be much help to you if you wish to begin making changes."

Hermione knew this already. Professor McGonagall had never been the person who cooked up schemes or planned for a brighter future. She taught. She did a wonderful job in her classroom and prepared generation after generation for the 'real world,' but Hogwarts was the center of the world for her. Still, Hermione allowed herself some feeling of disappointment that Minerva couldn't replace Dumbledore.

"I understand," she said, clenching her jaw, "but I still don't want to work very closely with him. He doesn't know my story, does he?"

"You mean your being from the future? No," Minerva said, taking a sip of tea to mask her smirk. "Remember, Albus is my dearest friend, and I have known this man longer than you've been alive. I know his faults  _ far  _ better than you might. If he heard there was a witch roaming the castle with full knowledge of the wizarding world's future it would be too much of a temptation for him. No, he thinks the same as everyone- that your family perished in that awful muggle-killing. Though I hardly need to warn you to speak as little as possible about the matter to him. It's likely he could know more than we have planned for."

Hermione nodded. "Could I ask you a favor, then? Would you mind passing on some information to him, but not letting him know it came from me?"

"I could certainly try. Is there anything in particular he can do from this time?" 

Hermione wrung her hands together. "How much do you know about Horcruxes?"

In the span of an hour, Hermione filled in the older witch about all she knew regarding Tom Riddle's treasures. Minerva's face went deathly pale once or twice, showing the wrinkles that were barely there moments before, but she kept silent and waited until Hermione had finished before asking questions. Once she started, she asked more and more technical questions, and Minerva found herself intensely grateful that the young woman before her with such in-depth knowledge of dark magic had already proven herself trustworthy. Dead or alive, in this timeline or any other, her bonded time-turner would never have left her neck unless it was taken by someone with the purest intentions. She breathed easier knowing she didn’t have to question Hermione's integrity.

When the clock struck midnight, Hermione jumped three feet in the air with a yell. Minerva berated herself as she watched the girl pick herself up off the floor sheepishly. Despite how easily she could launch into a discussion or set all the fifth years laughing, Hermione was still grieving and carrying a huge weight on her shoulders.

"Alright, my dear, I think we better turn in for the night. I've promised to make Albus aware of these horcruxes, but now you need to promise me something."

"Of course, professor," Hermione said. 

The grey-haired woman looked Hermione right in the eyes and leaned forward. "Make time to heal. I know this war is far from over, and you'll likely be forced to endure even more than you already have, but that is not the point. I won't allow a witch as bright and good as yourself to drown in a life of jumpiness and misery. I know you're a good girl with Godric's own heart, so do the brave thing and confront those fears and nightmares. Laugh, cry, scream if you must. But do not let them eat at you. You'll waste away."

Hermione let all that sink in. "I...I will try. Thank you."

"I mean it. And fate has dropped you in a rather opportune spot, with that wildling group of fifth years you've adopted. Let them help. They'll be good for you."

Tip-toeing back into the Gryffindor common room and seeing the dimmed space covered in bouncy balls, Hermione had to agree. Fate had certainly been generous in that way.

Three hours later, Hermione wrenched herself out of bed, panting and remembering all the ways in which fate had  _ not  _ been generous to her. Her skin was cold and clammy from her sweat and covered in goosebumps that even her jumper couldn't make disappear. She was just grateful she hadn't screamed and woken her roommates, though it would have been her just desserts for forgetting to refill her supply of Dreamless Sleep. Stuffing her feet in a pair of slippers, she padded down to the common room, hoping to warm herself by the fire and rub away all memories of freezing in Malfoy Manor.

"Hermione?" a rough voice said from the shadows of the common room. Hermione jumped at the sound, but was able to keep from screaming.

"Remus," she acknowledged, then crossed her legs and sat by the fire with her back towards him. She'd imagined she'd have the large space to herself, for hours if she really needed it. Sharing hadn't crossed her mind, and she really wasn't interested in trying, even with Remus.

She felt more than saw Remus take a seat a few inches away from her as he brushed some bouncy balls aside. He smelled like parchment and the kind of breath you only have after staying up all night. Hermione grimaced, but then remembered her breath probably wouldn't smell any better. She thought about asking him to just to sit with her quietly if he wouldn't leave, but his mouth took off before she could speak.

"Are you up because of the moon? I mean, I know that's why I can't sleep since it's only a few days away. It always makes me restless, like I could run for days. One time I did, you know. I ran for nearly a full day. But I didn't think you'd have any issues with this until next month."

Hermione's eyes were closed, but she could imagine the look on his face, the one she'd come to name Remus' "I've said too much and I'm an idiot who can't shut up but please still love me" face. The corners of her lips quirked up in a ghost of a smile, and she found she was too tired to lie to him.

"No, no moon symptoms yet. Just another nightmare."

"Another?" he said, his voice cracking a little, "I mean- ah, I'm sorry. I guess I'd probably have nightmares too, if..." he trailed off, running his hands through his thick, golden brown hair a few times before he sat bolt upright. "Hold on. I know what to do. Don't go anywhere."

She laughed under her breath at the way he bounded up the stairs, his long legs taking them three at a time. Then, hoping the gangly boy's idea of help was a secret supply of Dreamless Sleep, Hermione leaned back and rested her head on the sofa to wait. It didn't take long. Mere moments later, he reappeared with a shimmering black robe in hand, one she would have recognized anywhere.

"It's an invisibility cloak," he explained, "please don't tell the girls about it, though. I just thought... well... I wanted to show you something."

If Hermione were being honest, all she wanted to do was sit by the fire, alone, and be miserable after her nightmare. But McGonagall's voice whispering  _ let them help  _ drifted through her mind, and she found herself reluctantly accepting a hand up and ducking under the cloak with a boy whose breath now smelled like peppermint.

She let Remus lead her out the portrait and through the halls, just following his lead. She tried not to remember the way Ron used to accidentally bowl her over or Harry took steps twice as long as hers when they traveled under the cloak, especially once they got older, but she couldn't stop comparing her memories with the way Remus was tripping over himself like a puppy who hadn't grown into his feet yet. She had her hands on Remus' shoulders, to make sure they stayed together and hidden of course, but her palms tingled a little bit every time he jerkily moved one way or the other. She could also feel his broad muscles underneath his thin jumper, but that was just a coincidence.

When they passed the entrance to Hufflepuff House, Hermione knew his plan. It seemed as though the house elves never slept, because the entrance to the kitchen was brimming with the smell of at least five types of pastry.

"Hello? Is Flopsy around?" Remus called out as he took the cloak off. A handful of elves jumped at the sudden appearance, but most seemed like they were used to the show.

"Flopsy's here, Mistah Lupin," said a petite house elf wearing a bright green dishcloth, who took a bow. "Who's ya friend?"

"Hello Flopsy," Remus said, bowing in return, "this is Hermione. We were wondering-"

"Flopsy knows," the elf said, jerking her head backwards towards a counter where a fork and white ramekin sat on a little platter. "Mistah Lupin comes down for his treasies every month, he does. Flopsy was worried when he didn't come. Flopsy thought maybe Mistah Lupin didn't likes Flopsy's treatsies anymore."

"Oh no!" Remus said, and his stomach growled to prove it. "I love your lava cakes, Flopsy. I'm sorry to make you worried, but I was actually wondering if you might be able to make one for my friend here, too. She... she might be coming down for your treats every month, too."

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt to make the poor creature work extra hard on her behalf, and in the middle of the night no less, but the beaming smile on Flopsy's face made Hermione reconsider.

"Oh! Flopsy would love to! Give Flopsy a tick and she'll have it."

Remus pulled up two stools to the counter and they sat down, another fork appearing beside the first.

"Nothing in the world can be wrong if you're eating one of Flopsy's lava cakes," he explained, encouraging her to take a bite.

Hermione hesitated. This was Remus' cake, Remus' way of dealing with his moon symptoms, and she was intruding on it. She should have stayed in the common room, or better yet turned around when she saw it was occupied and dealt with the fallout from her nightmare in her own bed.

Remus fidgeted in his seat. "Do you want to talk about your nightmare? Sometimes girls say talking helps." 

Hermione sighed, resting her heavy head on her cupped hands. "I'd really like it to just go away, honestly."

He nodded in sympathy, pushing the ramekin closer to her. He still hadn't taken a bite yet, which Hermione assumed was an act of chivalry on his part. She was touched, knowing how much he loved chocolate, and decided to take a small bite so he could dig in, too. Her eyes closed as the warm, gooey chocolate filled her mouth, but a little bit got stuck on her cheek. He pointed it out to her embarrassment, and she wiped it off on her sleeve quickly. She was  _ not  _ going to let Remus Lupin think she was some kind of slob like...

She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to think about Ron or Harry again. Quietly, she heard Remus sigh beside her.

"Lily tells me that a brain can be like a traffic jam. If you don't try to work through the problem, all the cars just keep getting backed up until it's a real mess."

"Are you muggleborn?" Hermione asked, surprised by the analogy.

"No, but my Mum's a muggle. Plus, it was Lily who made the comparison, and I figured you'd understand it more than I would since you're muggleborn, too."

Hermione took in a slow, deep breath, then let it out through her nose. "I get what you're saying. Logically, it makes perfect sense, and I'm sure there are many mind-healers out there who would agree with you, or Lily as it were. But some things I don't know how to talk about."

"Is this about your arm?" he asked, making her jerk violently backwards.

"How did you know about that?" she whispered urgently, looking around to see if any of the house elves heard him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, but I was under the cloak in the library when you showed Snape. I was researching for a prank in the restricted section, and I saw you tell him off and show him. That looked like a pretty dark scar, Hermione."

"It is," she gulped, fighting back the anxiety that began to rise and make her feel like sprinting off, cloak or no cloak.  _ Remus is not the enemy _ , she said to herself, trying to calm her quickening heartbeat.

"How could so many bad things happen to one person? Your parents, your brother, your arm?" The questions started to pour out of him now, and his face grew pale. "It wasn't just one attack, was it? Are you being targeted for something? You're so good at defense against the dark arts, but are you safe? Are you-"

"Shut  _ up _ , will you?" she said, putting her hand over his mouth, "do you think that if any of those things were true, that I would want them being broadcast in public?"

Remus flushed a deep red and looked down. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure why, but I don't want anything bad to happen to you," he whispered.

"I can take care of myself," she said, "I always have."

He nodded, then picked up the fork she'd dropped in her panic and offered it to her like an olive branch. "Is there anything I can do, though?"

"Just let me have my secrets."

He seemed to accept this, and they sat there eating in silence for a few minutes. Flopsy brought over the second lava cake and they started in on that one, too. They'd almost polished both off when Hermione had a question.

"You said 'nothing in the world can be wrong if you're eating one of Flopsy's lava cakes' earlier. Is that true? When I have all the moony side effects you talked about, and have to deal with transformations and everything, is a cake going to be enough?"

Remus snorted as he took a large, gooey bite and shook his head. "Not even close. But I'm not good at making people feel better, and that sounded like the kind of thing I'd want to hear if I was feeling rotten. 'Chocolate can save the world?' Well, no, but I'll pretend it's true for a while."

Hermione smiled her first, proper smile of the night. "I'll remember that, then. But for the record? I think you're pretty good at making people feel better."

He blushed a little and to cover it up, he flicked the last forkful of cake at her, spraying it all over her face and getting it in her hair. She screeched in surprise, frightening all the house elves nearby before she transfigured herself a handful of chocolate chips and repaid the gesture.

Ten minutes later, a grumpy old house elf escorted a blueberry pie-stained Hermione and peach cobbler- covered Remus from the kitchen. Flopsy stood in the doorway to wave an enthusiastic goodbye, a freshly made cup of pudding still upturned on her head. Hermione felt only slightly guilty about the mess, though. After all, Remus' sticky hand was still holding hers under the invisibility cloak. 


End file.
